


1 Corinthians 13:7

by muldertorture (steelneena)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, all things, and relieves the burden of writing too much angst, introspective existentialism, it's good for the soul, s07 e17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5897266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/muldertorture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things<br/>Post all things</p>
            </blockquote>





	1 Corinthians 13:7

in the night, she falls beyond herself.   
in the night, she falls beyond herself and into him, like a gentle wave on the beach.   
like a gentle wave on the beach, she finds her tide with him, ebbing and flowing.   
ebbing and flowing, she reaches for him, they pull back and meet each other, rhythmically  
again.   
in minds, in bodies, in souls.   
the faucet is dripping. _dripping, dripping, dripping…_  
she doesn’t watch him, as she dresses, as she leaves, but her mind’s eye pans back up his languid form, legs tangled in the sheets.   
his face, peaceful and calm, painted with the innocence that sleep bestowed on all persons.   
even as she closes his door behind her, she still envisions his features, the gentle REM behind his eyelids, the rise and fall of his chest.   
every moment scalds in her heart. she is full to bursting with the memory of him, the gentle person of his contradiction, passion muted by tenderness, by adoration in caress.   
this she bears.

in the days following, she still walks in the haze. she is attuned to him acutely, yet with an objective distance.   
she thought she knew him well, but now she wonders just how much she has never observed. she isn’t trying to see it; the moment slows around her, and she can’t focus on anything but him.  
he’s put a sunflower seed to his lips and suddenly she’s noticing the gentle press of his eyelashes in an infinite blink and she realizes that this is an every day occurrence and she had never experienced it before.   
the clock is ticking. _ticking, ticking, ticking…_  
it is a thousand years as the blink returns his eye to open, and the world rushes back, as if it had never stood still in the first place. she too, blinks, and the moment is passed. she almost forgets it happened.   
but the next time he blinks she takes notice.  
she feels the urge to touch the dark lashes with just her forefinger in a quiet movement. but she doesn’t.  
he is speaking about impossible things.   
this she believes.

in every segment of her day, she lives in a fugue, created like a black hole around him. she feels different in every moment, even the ones where he isn’t present, but his existence highlights the feeling. gentle on her mind, she feels his gaze, intelligent, unconditional.   
he breaths in, and time almost pauses.   
he is breathing. _breathing, breathing, breathing…_  
the air between them sustains. his breath is hers, in every moment. her breath is his. she knows this.  
when she goes home, alone, it’s raining, and the water hits and reverberates on the glass of her windshield. the streetlights illuminate the tarmac like holiday lights on velveteen and she can feel his finger ghosting against her cheek.   
he isn’t there in the physical sense, but she feels him all the same.   
she wonders if he feels her, if this state will ever leave her, or if she is permanently altered by her experience. it doesn’t matter. she is changed for the better. she knows so much more, and so much less, all at once.   
he left a message on her phone. she’s home when she listens to it.   
_“…if you want to. Scully, I’d love it if you went with me. Please,”_  
she wonders if he loves her.   
his tone touches her, tender, rests comfortable against her soul.   
this she hopes.

in the morning, she runs her fingers through his hair.  
in the morning she runs her fingers through his hair and knows that with him, she is infinite.  
with him, she is infinite, for she can find it in her to bear, to believe, to hope, in the crusade, in their mission.  
in the crusade, in their mission, she is never alone, because he is timeless in her presence.  
timeless.   
she has memorized his essence, and spent infinitesimal milliseconds dwelling on the kismet of them. of who they are, together. she is not Dana, she is Scully, and he is not Fox. he is Mulder and they are one being in _all things_. they are an entity, a force of nature.  
they take up the burden together, so no one has to face it alone.   
this is her conclusion.   
it is him she is kissing. _kissing, kissing, kissing…_  
her life ended and began anew, and she understands her own fragile words. yes, she surmises. there is only one choice. _all things_  lead to it, and from it.   
he is her one choice. in him, she has discovered _all things_ , about herself, and him, about how each blade of grass sways in a gentle breeze. she leans on his fortitude, though his footing isn’t sure.   
within him, she finds herself. without him, she discovered it there.   
they are one.   
this she endures.

_Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things  
1 Corinthians 13:7_


End file.
